Russia's Haunting
by bittterblueyes27
Summary: Russia has never needed human companionship. Never said anything about a ghost.


Russia was sitting in his living room, reading a book. It was a quiet day, snow falling softly outside, a fire crackling in the fireplace. But he didn't mind, he had no need for others to be around him. He didn't crave human companionship. He liked being alone in his house, where others didn't annoy him. After all... he had always been alone, huh? Sighing, Russia put the book down and went into his kitchen to prepare diner. Maybe he would call his sister later? Not the crazy one, but the big chested one, Ukraine. She was nice enough to talk to if she wasn't crying. Going over to his refrigerator, he grabbed the handle and pulled, but the door wouldn't budge. Frowning, Russia pulled on the handle again, but the door stayed shut. Suddenly feeling he wasn't alone, Russia turned around. In the far corner of his large kitchen, there was a girl. Probably the age of 16, but was still rather small, her back facing the large Russian. She appeared transparent, her feet faded into nothing and her hair glowing brightly, her body see-through; He could see the wall behind her. Her hair was an unusual fiery red, and traveled a length down her back, ending at her hips, small ripples running through it. She stood there, hands clasped together in front of her, not moving before she disappeared. Vanished, into thin air.

This was the first occurrence.

That night, he played the scene over again in his mind. Simply dismissing it as a trick of his mind, his imagination, he shrugged the thought off and went to sleep, unaware of the eyes that followed his movements.

* * *

She made her presence known two weeks later. Russia had just come home from a meeting with his boss, a stressful meeting at that. He closed the door and leaned against it, blowing warmth back into his hands. He was back into his cold, lonely home, and he started off for the fireplace, starting a fire. He took a match and lit it, throwing it in and watching as the logs of wood were slowly engulfed by flames. Instead of sitting in his plush chair, he instead sat on the floor, slowly warming his body from the harsh cold. He closed his eyes as the wind whistled, throwing itself against the house.

Then he heard it. A soft humming of sorts, turning into the smallest whisper of words, mixing with the howls of the wind. It was faint, and barely audible, but beautiful at the same time. Her voice was soft, and melodious as it rang through the house.

Then it was gone, the last of the flames in the fire dying before it all turned into ashes.

* * *

Her occurrences became more apparent to the Russian as time went by. He would see her walking down the hallway as he exited a room, only to see her walk into the wall and vanish. Sometimes she would sing. Others, she would sit and watch him as he did something, reading, cooking, cleaning and the like. He would wake up and she would be humming a tune outside his window, facing the snow as she walked off into the distance. He was never scared, no. She seemed welcoming. If she didn't attack, why should he? He never said anything, and neither did she. She would only sing, and even then, she would never be in the same room as him. Her eyes were brown. Her skin was pale. She was Russian.

A day or two would come when someone would visit Russia, to talk about meetings or other things, and she would stand in the corner, watching them. Nobody ever said anything. Nobody ever saw her. She just stood there, and when they left, she vanished. And then she wouldn't some back. She wouldn't return until a long period of time had passed, give or take a few weeks, until she would return, her song floating through the walls, soft Russian words whispering things of happiness and lullabies. He would sit down and the lights would flicker, or a draft would come in through the house, and there she would be, waiting.

Always waiting.

* * *

He walked into the dining room, and she sat at the table, waiting, before she got up, walked through the table and vanished. He sat down in the chair next to hers, setting down his bowl of soup before starting to eat. A harsh tapping sound resonated from the grand windows in the room before he turned around to see the General there. Getting up, he opened one of the windows, allowing the General to come into the room. He sat in her chair. He watched as Russia ate the rest of his lunch before grabbing Russia's wrist. "She has been watching." He stated, as Russia nodded. The General then stood up, and walked back out the open window, a pile of snow now on the marble floor, as he walked away and vanished. Looking back to his wrist, there was now a band of frost where the General's hand had been. He looked up. She was watching. She furrowed her brow. She vanished.

She didn't return until the meeting.

* * *

The next month at the meeting, which was held in his home, he was unusually quiet. He sat off in the far corner, trying to listen as the others discussed the topics at hand. They all behaved, for they didn't want to have to deal with an angry Russian threatening to invade their homes. So, everyone behaved, everyone was mature, no one fought. Belarus didn't differ to stare at her brother the entire meeting, a frown on her face. He could feel her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her chin on his head, and her plush breasts pressing against the back of his head. There was no heat. Only coldness and an itching feeling that something was touching him, the pressure of another person, but she was transparent- not even there at all. Her skin would leave trails of irritation where she touched. She had never dared to touch him before. She was playing with his scarf, gently, fingering the rim of it, making his neck itch and tickle. Her hair fell around the sides of his face as he tried to listen to Germany, who was now speaking. He could feel eyes on him, wether it be from other nations or from her, it didn't matter. He could feel himself tense as her right hand went through his coat, his shirt, and was now fingering his collar bone. Her hand had gone **through** them, her transparent skin apparent on his chest. She moved her head, ever so slightly, now resting it on his right shoulder, her left hand rubbing his shoulder gently.

They switched speakers, as China went up to the front of the room. America had a little tiff with China as they calmly argued about his debt to China. Meanwhile, Belarus had not taken her eyes off Russia once, the other nations ignoring her as it was normal behavior. But her frown deepened as she saw **her** hand go through his coat, over his heart. She saw his soft intake of breath, his small gasp as she moved her hand back and forth over that spot. She could see her blowing soft puffs of air on his ear, and she watched how they burned ever so slightly. He was uncomfortable. Russia sat, still as a statue as her hand rubbed at his heart. He could feel her all around him, cold and intimidating, but the hand rubbing at his heart was sending uncomfortable, sudden sparks of heat through him, her transparent hand tickling the sensitive flesh, for it could not actually touch it. It had stopped snowing outside. France got up to discuss a political issue, and an idea he had to fix one of their many problems. Russia couldn't hear him anymore. He could only focus on what was happening to him.

An hour later, the meeting ended. And hour later, she had vanished once more.

* * *

Everyone had left the meeting room except for three nations. She had requested they stayed, and they knew if she needed something from them of all people, it must be serious. Her eyes bore into green and light violet eyes as she sat across from them. The room was uncomfortably warm due to the fireplace, and the ever-raining nation tugged at his tie, loosening it a bit. It was deadly quiet as the other fixed up his papers, nothing said as his troll companion stood quietly next to him.

There was a bundle of whispers before the sound of her shoes came to be. She walked through the wall, leading in from the hallway, and walked across the room, through the table, all the while, three pairs of eyes watching her as she walked through the wall opposite and outside, walking away into the snow. Eyes flickered back to green and light violet before nodding in silent agreement as they gathered their papers and left the room.

* * *

Russia was once more sitting in his living room, reading the one book that always sat there, and sighed as he finished it for what seemed the millionth time. Just as he placed the book down, his phone rang. Getting up, he picked up his old-fashoined rotary and held the receiver to his ear. It seemed like forever since he had actually talked.

"Pryviet." His voice was a bit hoarse from disuse.

"Hello, big brother." It was Belarus. Shivering slightly in fear, he warily responded.

"Sister. Why are you calling? Something is not wrong... is there?"

"No. I wish to see you. I miss you, brother and..." He could hear the strain in her voice as she spoke.

"Sister?" There was silence on the other end. She had not hung up, but she didn't speak. Something was off. Russia gathered his courage before speaking again.

"You... You may visit me, if you please." He said, trying to keep his voice steady. There was a slight hitch of breath on the other end before Belarus spoke again.

"Thank you, brother. I shall visit you soon." Saying farewell, he hung up the phone, taking a huge breath of air before he heard her song again, whispering ever so slightly. He went back to the living room, sitting in the same chair he always sat in, closing his eyes as he heard her whisper her song.

* * *

The next day, Russia opened the front door to reveal his younger sister covered in an old fur coat he had once made for her. It was her absolute favorite coat, and she gently took it off as she came inside, placing it on the coat rack as she came inside. They exchanged 'Hellos' as he led her further into the house. She sat on the small couch as Russia excused himself into the kitchen, going to prepare them both tea. She sat quietly, not even gaining the urge to tackle her brother and drag him off to get marriage papers signed. She didn't even care about her lust for her brother at the moment. It wasn't important.

What was important was her.

Waiting patiently, she appeared in front of Belarus. The tips of her hair coated in a small layer of frost, and there were bags under her eyes. Her lips were blue, and her arms were covered in frostbite, black splotches of skin peeling off and falling onto the carpet underneath her feet. Belarus studied her features, her red hair and brown eyes before the girl raised an arm, level to her chest, before reaching forward and pointing to Belarus's heart. She vanished as Russia came back into the room.

He didn't notice the black, rotting peels of skin in front of Belarus as he gave her a cup of tea and sat in his usual chair. Belarus stared at her feet as Russia studied her fearlessly. She wasn't acting normally.

"Sister?" Belarus looked up, dark bags under her eyes he hadn't noticed before. She placed her tea down and stood up, walking over to Russia, her head down at her feet again, before she stopped in front of him.

"Sister?" She leaned forward, placing a small kiss on her beloved brother's forehead before going back to the door, grabbing her coat and walking into the snow.

Behind the wall in the next room over, she listened, her fists clenching, blood pouring from the slits made by her fingertips. The droplets landed on the floor, seeping into the carpet before disappearing.

She waited.

* * *

The first occurrence of her physically touching something was rather gruesome.

Russia woke up, expecting her to be at the foot of his bed, where everyday she would wait for him to wake up. She wasn't there. Getting up, Russia heard nothing as listened for her. Nothing was heard. He hadn't seen her since the day before Belarus came, the day she called. He realized he knew a lot of signs to look for, when looking for her, he realized that he expected her company everyday. The telephone rang. Getting up, he went over to answer it. "Privyet."

"..." There was nothing except the whisper of someone breathing. Then static. Putting the phone down, Russia went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and the lights flickered. He knew she was near, but ignored it as he reached in, grabbing left-over food and preparing it, going into the dining room and eating. After he was done, he looked around. He hadn't seen her at all today, had he?

Walking into the living room, he froze. She was standing there, in front of his couch, looking at it. He blinked before walking over to his favorite chair. As he was about to sit down, her image flickered. When he looked back, he saw her plunge her hand into his couch cushions, pulling out a dead rat before bringing it to her mouth and biting the head off of it. Walking away, she continued to eat the dead rat, before vanishing into the wall, nothing but a small, black-colored blood trail following her path.

Warily, Russia sat down on his chair. He would have to call an exterminator tomorrow.

* * *

A day went by before he saw her again, or rather, _heard_ her. Waking up to the sound of shattering glass, Russia scrambled out of bed, running to the kitchen. He found her there, the fridge opened. Two bottles of what _had_ been unopened vodka lay shattered on the floor, and in her hand was another one. She struggled to hold it as it slipped through her hand, falling to the floor. Russia blinked before striding over, and reaching for her shoulder. He shivered, feeling how cold her spirit was. She looked at him before disappearing. Russia looked around before going into a closet and getting cleaning supplies, and started to clean up the vodka.

* * *

Time passed and before he knew it... he was beginning to enjoy her presence. He liked her in the same house as him, and he liked that she didn't speak, but only sang when he couldn't see her. It was a... gentle, peaceful feeling he hadn't felt in a while. It also felt normal, for this ghost to be in his house, for this girl to stay there. He would walk down a hall and she would be reaching under a piece of furniture, grabbing a live or dead animal and eating it; ripping off it's head, bones, blood, guts and all and swallowing it after chewing for a few seconds. He laughed once when he caught himself looking for her, convincing himself that he didn't need human companionship when he realized something. She was _dead_. He was looking for the companionship of a ghost, not a human. He was right all along. He was fine by himself.

* * *

_All... yes, he's always been all alone. She finds rats, and she eats them, along with other animals that worm their way into the old house... and any bug that dares fly in front of her. This isn't normal. Humans eat rats, right? His thoughts are confused. The sister was... Bela... Bela... something. Marriage? Was he married to her? Who knows. Wasn't there another one? U...Ukr... hmm... this will require some thinking..._

* * *

It was a known fact that Russia didn't go outside his house often, but this seemed ridiculous.

Disconnecting his phones, not talking to anybody... the last person who had seen him was Belarus.

_Belarus knocked on the door, the winds outside blowing against her, making her shiver. "Big brother!" She yelled, "Open the door!"_

_"Nyet... shh..." Rolling her eyes, Belarus walked in and into the living room, where she fond her big brother, a dead rat on his plate in front of him._

_"Big-"_

_"Shhhhh..."_

_"You need to stop this, Russia."_

_"Nyet, shh, you'll scare her... lovely little sunflower is hiding from me, and she does not come for diner."_

_"Russia, she's a ghost. She's trying to-"_

_"Bela, you need to leave. She says she doesn't like you."_

_"She said nothing."_

_"But can't you feel it? She doesn't like you here. Go away now."_

_"Russia-"_

_"Make sure not to slip on the ice on the front porch. It's slippery. Take a bottle of vodka and go."_

_"..." Belarus sighed before walking out the door, and away from her brother._

That was the last time someone had talked to him. They would go to his house and knock on the door, waiting for him to answer, but he never did. They broke into the house to find him sitting in front of a plate with a rotting, dead rat and bags under his eyes, a vodka bottle clenched tightly in his hands. _"She'll come back... she'll come back..."_ They'd always hear him whisper as they left the house. They deemed him insane, possible crazy. It would take a long time to fix the damage done to the cold, wintery nation.

* * *

_"Oh General... you are such a fool..." Her voice rang in her head as she laughed._

_"Revenge has such a sweet taste, don't you think?"_

* * *

**Well... If you want an explanation, here it is.**

**Basically what happened was General Winter angered a spirit that used to live in Russia's house, a servant of sorts, and she gets revenge on him by taking Russia from him, then leaving him all alone again. I don't really know, I just got the idea one day to write a Haunted!Russia story and it evolved into this... I kinda feel like I failed on this, but all well.**


End file.
